avatar_Niall Gallagher

The Lucky One

Started by Niall Gallagher, Feb 28, 2019, 02:37 PM

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All right, stupid question. Niall didn't look, sound or act fine and Ken was smart enough to realize what was going on before he spelled it out for him. The hangover could be cured with some water and maybe a few aspirin; the effects of the drugs, not so much.

He helped Niall to his feet and looked around. Most places were closed now but there was a corner store nearby and he saw the owner beginning to draw up the blinds and unlocking the door. "Come on, we can buy water over there." Walking slowly now, he tried to guide Niall towards the store with an arm around his waist.

Ken rapped gently on the glass of the door and the owner, an aging Asian man, hurried over to open it. "Can I get two bottles of water please?" He rummaged through his pockets and came up with a few bills that he hastily put into the store owner's hand. "Don't worry about the change."

The man nodded and retrieved two bottles of cold water from a fridge. Ken opened one and handed it to Niall.

"Is your friend okay?" The owner seemed mildly concerned, but Ken smiled tightly and waved him off.

"He's fine. Just... tired. Thank you for the water. Come on, Niall. Are you sure you can keep going?"

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It was like he was hot and sweaty but shivering at the same time. Like his hands were twitchy and visibly shaky. Ants felt like they were crawling all over his skin and he felt a deep itch for something, anything to make it all go away. Nobody liked feeling like shit and knowing how easy it was to reverse this feeling made it even worse. Pills, alcohol, something, anything. Instead, he was standing against Ken, feeling faint and still determined not to collapse.

"...thanks," he gasped as he took the water bottle. Good thing Ken opened it because he wasn't so sure he could have in the moment. Dropping down to sit hard on the pavement, he greedily drank from the cold water bottle. His body relished the refreshment, even though it wasn't enough to drive it all back. His body had learned to move and work by connecting to certain chemicals that were now absent and it was making everything go haywire.

Resting his head against the back of the shop window, he looked at Ken as he slowly lowered the nearly empty water bottle.

"Yeah, yeah. It's just one block," he reminded Ken. God, he wished Ken didn't have to see him this way. This was like his worst nightmare. Okay, not even close but still. He wished Ken wasn't seeing it. Normally, he would have really played it up, feeling like shit. But he was half afraid Ken was going to give up on him if he didn't see Niall trying at all. That terrified him more than a jaunty jog while death stewed over him.

"I just need a minute."

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Ken lowered himself into a crouch and ran a gentle hand through Niall's hair, pushing back some of the strands that were sticking to the side of his temple and forehead. He opened the other bottle too and set it down beside Niall, in case he should need it.

"Only one block. No cheating, right?"

Poor Niall... His expression softened as he let his hand fall, but his fingertips grazed the side of Niall's cheek. It was brave of him to try and push through, but Ken wouldn't have forced him to go through with this jog. He only wanted Niall to get out and get some fresh air; he thought it would do him some good, rather than laying in bed in that dark apartment all day.

While one block wouldn't kill him, it wouldn't make him feel exactly good, either. But while Ken felt terribly about his condition and his obvious suffering, he had to remind himself that Niall wasn't a baby. He was tough; he'd been through worse.

"Let me know when you're okay to continue." In the meantime, Ken stayed beside him and gently rubbed his back.

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"...yeah."

Although the exhaustion was bone deep, Niall was glad he wasn't alone on the street like he would have been otherwise. After spending so much time essentially alone surrounded by friends that only wanted to be friends because of what he gave them, it was nice to just... exist for a moment alongside the past. The water helped. So did the strokes. There was no way he'd ever feel one hundred percent a day into Ken's rehab program but at least he wasn't shaking in some jail cell while a big lady named Marge made comments about his ass.

Niall didn't count the time. He just breathed and let time work its magic. It took some more water--sipping carefully this time because he didn't need that churning sensation coming back--before he finally nodded and got to his feet.

"I'm drowning myself in cold water after this," he informed Ken.

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#169
"Please don't," Ken smiled as he got to his feet too, though not after grabbing the empty water bottle so that he could throw it into the trash. "I'd be extremely sad if you didn't come up for air at least one time."

Not that he thought Niall would do it... but he also didn't know that Niall wouldn't. Truthfully, there was so much that he no longer knew about the man that was once his best friend, lover and confidante. So much time passed between them that the things he used to know felt like relics of the past--no longer relevant to who they were today. Of course, that couldn't be completely true, but it felt that way.

Grown-up Niall tended to play up every ache and pain (and more so the legitimate ones). Young Niall rolled through beds of stinging nettles and laughed about it before, during and after the ordeal. Grown-up Niall was dependent on so much to keep him functioning, to keep his head above the water, while young Niall needed only the brilliant yellow sunshine and the green, grassy hills of their home town to buoy his mood. Somewhere in there, a happy medium had to exist. Somewhere between the carefree youth of the past and the troubled man of the present was a version of Niall that they could both live with.

The thought was a heavy one, and it weighed upon him as he started to walk again--this time at a slower pace than before. Towards the end of the first block, Ken began to jog, but still slowly so that Niall could keep pace. "One block. Promise." He smiled encouragingly at Niall and reached out to squeeze his hand briefly.

"And if you make it all the way home... you can have a reward." Then, quickly, he added, "That's not drugs."

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Ken was lucky, then. There were many times when he thought about not coming up for air but something in him always ended up coming back. Being underwater was still like being in a dream and it was a go-to when he wasn't feeling the real world. Sadly, he could only stay there for so long before his lungs began to ache for air and then he was back in the real world. Like right now. When he was on drugs, he was underwater. Now he had broken from beneath the surface and he was horrified by how loud and bright everything was. Underwater, on drugs, everything was muted and slow and easy to digest.

And here it was. It was happening. The Jog. The jogging part of their excursion. Niall was pretty sure he could handle it now but he was also a petulant child and didn't want to. But then he perked out. A reward! He put his hands together (careful now, with that wrist) and he grinned from ear to ear, about to say it--but Ken was quick.

"...you're not very good at this," he declared. When he was younger, he would have been turning this into a race. Last one to the house was a rotting vampire or something along those lines. Now Niall was just jogging along because he'd been told he had to and he was humoring Ken. But his mind was starting to reel, screaming that he needed those missing chemicals, that he needed something before he ended up a curled up ball of nothing.

Yet he was still doing it. One jolting, awful step at a time. He was jogging under heavy protest. And as they did, he saw one of his dealers packing up, getting ready to go home and go to bed, probably. The dealers tended to work late and sleep through the day. Niall made a small noise in the back of his throat when their gazes met and the dealer smirked at him, calling out, "Ni-baby, never thought I'd see the day!"

"... I'm trying something new, Kev, it's called living."

Kev laughed, then made a tipping hat motion at Ken. "Good luck, you've got your work cut out for you with this one."

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"I think you'll find that I'm very good at this," Ken responded with as close to a smirk as had ever been seen on his face in broad daylight. Beat Niall to the punch; no deal on drugs. That satisfied Ken but it didn't seem to satisfy Niall—then again, he didn't expect it to. It was nice, though... seeing his eyes light up like that. Even if the happiness was in response to the prospect of loading up on pills, it was at least a glimmer of a happier Niall.

In their youth, they would have run pell mell for the hills, breathing hard and panting like dogs when they collapsed eventually. Today, they jogged slowly and took it one step at a time. For Ken, it was more like a speed-walk but he was glad that Niall was beside him, keeping up, doing his best. He remained silent during the exchange with a shady-looking character, however, and when the man tossed a humorous comment his way, he only nodded curtly.

Yes, he knew that he had his work cut out for him. One jog wouldn't miraculously bring Niall back from the clutches of addiction. Some days would be harder than others. Some days, Niall might hate him. He might fight with him tooth and nail. He might sling insults and barbs and hurtful words, genuinely thinking that Ken was tormenting him. It would be hard work.

Luckily for them both, Ken wasn't afraid of hard work.

"Almost there," he said as they neared the end of the block. Only a few steps forward and they were there, at the cross-section. Ken turned to Niall and smiled. Beamed at him proudly. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

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ALMOST THERE.

Almost felt so far away but Niall could see it and it was within reach and he wasn't dead yet. Yay. He dropped to his knees in dramatic fashion to rest for a moment, then sat back on his heels. Yep, home sweet home was so close, it was within sight. Niall grinned, though, looking up at Ken. Look at them, smiling at each other like they were kids again. Warmed his cold, dead heart.

"Your reward better be worth it," he said. "Or I'm staying in bed tomorrow."

Sub-consciously, Niall didn't want to think about tomorrow. Deep down, he knew this was just the beginning, the tip of a terrible iceberg. He had to get sober a couple of times in the past and it was never, ever a pleasant experience. It got a lot worse before it got better. And eventually, Niall went back to what he knew because he was weak and the people were all around him and they knew where to find him, how to get him right back on that train. And it wasted all that time, effort, and suffering. Erased it all.

He thought Ken didn't know what he was getting into, as well. Could anybody care enough about Niall to stick with him even when he was really at his worst? Worse than anything he ever knew of Niall? Because the young Niall, his worst was nothing like the adult Niall.

Getting to his feet, Niall stretched a leg out into the air.

"I could go for ten more blocks," he claimed, "but not now. I'm too hungry. I need some greasy hash browns from Mama Betty's."

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"You'll not stay in bed all day," said Ken sternly, looking down at an over-dramatic Niall who seemed inches away from kissing the ground and declaring everlasting love for it. Luckily, Niall did no such thing and only sat on his heels to catch his breath. Then over-confidence got the better of him and even Ken laughed. Ten more blocks. Hm.

"How about some toast and poached eggs instead?" He asked, but it was less of a suggestion and more of a... strongly worded suggestion, with very little by way of choice. All of that grease—hash browns, chips, carry-out from cheap food courts and restaurants—was doing more to kill Niall than the drugs and alcohol.

Ken turned for home, taking hold of Niall's hand as much to have it as to stop him from dragging his feet or running off to Betty's. "Made by these two talented hands," he said persuasively, as though it was an honor—it was—to eat a meal personally prepared by him.

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Oho, yes he would so! If his reward was something lame like now go take a shower, smelly then he was definitely staying home and skipping the jogging thing tomorrow! He continued to look up at Ken, though he squinted slightly at his change of menu. Why? Why wouldn't Ken just let him have or do anything? This was going to become unbearable real fast, he thought.

"But... but Betty's..." he protested as his hand was taken like a parent taking their wayward toddler's hand. Niall stared in the direction of Betty's, which he could also see from here. It was right there, though! And they were already out! He turned back to Ken with an exasperated sigh.

"How? I don't have a stove, remember?"

Did he even have a toaster, come to think of it? There was the indispensable microwave but had he ever gotten a toaster into his place? He just ate his bread straight from the loaf. Who had time for waiting on toast? Pffft.

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"I'll buy us one on the way home."

Little camping stoves were a dime a dozen, and they were a good long-term investment to boot. Ken was a problem-solver; in the face of Niall's skepticism, he rose to the occasion grandly. Stove, pan, a bit of oil. That was all they needed. He had made do with worse before.

"And when I have time, we'll go and buy some more things for the flat. I'll be here for quite a while." He paused. Looked at Niall, with his dissatisfied face and his crooked headband and his flushed cheeks, fresh off a one-block jog. But he made it. Despite throwing up earlier and looking like death, he pulled through.

Something in his heart warmed and he pulled Niall closer, hoping that the proximity would persuade him to give up some of that grouchy grumbling.

"I might even stay... forever. You won't let me waste away, will you? On nothing but microwave meals and hash browns? Hm?"

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"Might wanna add a toaster to that list, then, unless you found one when you were nosing around my place, cause I'm pretty sure I don't have one."

He liked the sound of that, though. Ken staying. Or maybe he didn't. It was tricky for him to decide. On one hand, Ken seemed determined to change everything in Niall's comfortable life. On the other, he was back in his life. Be careful what you wish for? If he didn't feel like such rubbish, he would still think he was dreaming.

"Do I look like I've wasted away, hm?" Niall asked. "Is that what you're trying to say?"

He lifted his arm up and flexed it. To his satisfaction there was still some muscle in his upper arm. Maybe not as much as it might have been if he was still a hunter or an athlete but he wasn't just skin and bones!

"I'm still sexy," he told Ken. "The secret is in the drugs. You can eat as much as you want but the drugs make your metabolism crazy fast." He didn't know if this was true or not--it was just something some of the girls said to each other so he was copying them.

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#177
"I can toast bread in a pan," Ken said easily, as his thumb brushed the back of Niall's hand absently. The walk was pleasant, even if the grumbling wasn't. He hadn't heard anyone complain so much in his life—and he grew up with Niall the chatterbox!

Looking at the flexing and the muscles and Niall's attempt to prove... something, Ken laughed. Not unkindly, but amusedly. He didn't try to flex. He did put out a hand to pat Niall's stomach. Not as defined as it used to be—oh, he remembered very well how fit this body used to be in its prime.

"But I don't like drugs, Poodles. I only like you."

Niall wasn't Niall on drugs. Ken didn't much like that side of him, or the way he acted and spoke. He fluctuated between highs and lows at a blink, his emotions as erratic and unpredictable as his actions. A little of that scared Ken, if he had to be honest. There was always a fear that Niall would rebel; that he would go back to old ways. They could yoyo forever in this tug-of-war.

Ken's voice softened as he said, "Just give it a go, all right? Give me a chance to help you."

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"Whaaat?" Ken was right, though. Bread could be toasted in a pan. Like grilled cheese. Why was his mind so blown by this? Probably because his mother never made toast that way; they'd always had a working toaster for that sort of thing and Niall didn't think twice about other options. The laughter, though, Niall made a slight face as his stomach was patted rather than his flexing arm. It was the arm he was showing off here right now, not the stomach!

"I can't decide if I like you or not..." Better than drugs? Maybe. It was sadly debatable because it depended largely on his mood and he had some wild mood swings these days.

The truth had already been spoken, though. That he needed him. Wanted him. Niall scuffed his sneakers on the ground, enjoying their close proximity and the silly nickname and the fact that Ken was still there. He kept thinking it must be a dream. That it was going to become a nightmare, that he would turn to look at Ken to find he was staring into the eyes of a monster. But every time he looked, Ken was still there and he was still Ken.

"I... I am," he said, suddenly nervous at the thought of Ken counting on him for something. He swept a hand over his shiny capris. "Just... don't expect a lot. Not sure you've noticed but I'm kind of a mess these days."

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Niall liked him. Ken wasn't confident enough to bet on anything more than that, but like was enough for now. It got them through a rocky reunion. Maybe it wouldn't be enough to keep Niall on the straight and narrow, but... it was a start.

"I noticed." Hard to miss that little detail, as a matter of fact. If Jem hadn't pointed Niall out in the diner, Ken would have walked right on by. He wouldn't have given the man with the crazy makeup and the ostentatious clothing a second glance.

They had something to thank Jem for, it seemed.

"But you know." He slowed and pulled Niall closer, until their shoulders brushed. "I'm not giving up." Ken wasn't the type. Even from childhood, he went through with all the tasks that the adults piled onto his shoulders. He accomplished every mission, completed every hunt, trained until his legs gave out—but he never gave up.

The only thing he ever gave up on was Niall and... that was a mistake. But it wouldn't be a mistake he would repeat easily.

"I'm not letting you give up, either. You can complain and you can try to cheat and get out of this, but I'll hunt you down, Niall Gallagher." Ken smiled crookedly. "I'm the best hunter around these parts, aren't I?"

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